Miss Piggy's Tragic Past
by Lil' Fizz
Summary: Miss Piggy didn't start life as well off as she is now. This is the tragic story of her past, a tale of grabbing oportunities and about doing what you feel is right even if it seems like the hardest option. Can Miss Piggy survive the hard life with nothing but a little determination? Rated T for character death.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note! Hi everyone! So this story is based off something I found on a website so it's probably true but I thought, I might as well write it because who else it going to write it? So here it is: Enjoy!**

Miss Piggy. What do people think when they hear the words Miss Piggy? A glamorous, beautiful, perfect pig who is destined for greatness and will let nothing stand in my way. Well, they'd be right! However, I may seem perfect now, but it wasn't always this way. My past is far from flawless; it's a tragic tale which I have swept under the rug for many years. No-one knows about this, not even Kermit. But I feel like it's time to get this down. So here it is: my life story.

I grew up on a farm with 4 brothers and 4 sisters. Paris, Patrick, Phillip, Pedro, Pauline, Pippa, Peter and Pearl. All our names start with P for some sort of joke. I didn't enjoy living such a humble life; I had big dreams of living in the city and becoming a famous actress. I was the third oldest, and determined to be just like my oldest sister, Paris. She was big, bold, brave and I learned a lot from her. The younger ones were horribly irritating and annoying always running around and stealing things. Life wasn't the best, it was annoying and boring a lot of the time but I couldn't complain. That was until I was 17, when everything changed.

I was reading, as usual. Books about movie stars that made me horribly jealous of their fame and fortune. When suddenly, I heard a scream. I ignored it though. The scream was from Pauline, the fourth youngest; she was 10 and was the selfish one. _Pippa's probably taken her new handbag without asking or something. _I thought. Pauline was like that. I went back to my book when suddenly, Peter appeared. He was the second youngest, 7 years old and very shy. He was one of the few siblings I had that I actually liked.

"Penelope!" he yelled.

Alright I admit it. I should have said this earlier but I have to now. Miss Piggy isn't my real name, my real name is Penelope. I'll get to why I changed it later.

Peter ran over to me with tears in his eyes. "Penelope, you have to come and see this!" he wailed.

I put my book down. "What is it?" I asked.

"It's Dad! He's… he's…" Peter choked on his words, unable to get the last word out.

I sighed. It obviously wasn't that important then. My dad was the worst dad in the entire world. He always cheated on Mum. He was a stupid, lazy, aggressive, careless father and was hardly ever around.

Peter cried harder, clearly distraught about something.

"Hey, Peter, it can't be that bad," I said.

He sniffed. "It is," he insisted and he ran off and I was forced to follow.

When we reached the place Peter had been trying to show me, I saw Mum and all my siblings standing around in a semi-circle, hiding something from my sight. Most of them were in tears. That was a worrying sight, I won't lie. I pushed my way through to see what they were looking at but when I saw it, I wish I hadn't. Dad was lying on the ground, dead. I was traumatized. Dad may have been the worst dad ever, but I still loved him, a little bit and now he was gone. I had to look away from the horrible bloody mess; I tried hard not to cry, but failed.

"How did it happen?" I asked, sniffing.

Mum said nothing.

"Lawnmower accident," Patrick said.

He was the second oldest, 19 and usually boyish and unruly but the circumstances had stunned him into behaving himself.

Mum gave a little sob. "This is my fault," she whimpered. "If I hadn't been so cruel to him all the time, maybe…"

Pedro, the 12 year old middle child and the most loyal of us all put a hand on Mum's shoulder. "It's not your fault Mum," he said. "It was an accident."

I sighed. Wiped my eyes, and crept away silently.

**Sorry it was kinda tragic. I will try to slip a few jokes in here and there but I can't guarantee that. Hope you enjoyed, next chapter coming soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Second chapter, hooray! Sorry I haven't uploaded in ages, would you believe, my keyboard broke. But luckily, my wonderful Dad bought me a new one and because I love it so much, I will be writing a lot more! Hooray! (How much are you gonna bet that I wont keep that promise?)**

You may wonder why I'm like what I am sometimes. Why I always have to have the upper hand, always have to be right. Why I seem so strong on the outside. The other muppets do. They don't say it to my face; they wouldn't dare for fear of getting a karate chop. But I hear their secret conversations, telling their friends about what they really think of me. Or sometimes, I can tell from just their expression. I know I annoy Kermit a lot, and the others but I can't really help it. Hopefully, this story is explaining why. After Dad died, I didn't feel like I could be myself anymore. I couldn't show what I was thinking, how I felt inside. And I seemed to have kept that through force of habit. Mum was horrible to me, to everyone. Especially my siblings and I, she seemed convinced it was our fault that Dad had died. Where she got that from, I have no idea but there was no convincing Mum she was wrong now, her mind was set and no-one could change it. Mum seemed convinced that he'd killed himself deliberately. I disagreed, Dad was very unobservant, I'm sure he didn't see the lawn-mower coming and… well you know the rest.

Mum grew lazy, careless. She was a little lazy before, but this was ridiculous. She could spend whole days staring into space and doing nothing. Paris became the new mum. That was cool, I liked Paris, but I was concerned about Mum. I wasn't worried at first, I knew it was normal to get sad after someone died but a month or two went by and Mum showed no change in, well, anything! I was too scared to talk to her, she wouldn't listen to what anyone had to say, she would just shout and scream until they left her alone. I asked Paris about it.

"I'm worried about Mum," I said.

"We all are," she replied. She was cooking pancakes because Pauline was whining and the best way to shut her up was with food. Like I said, _far_ more fun than Mum. "Why don't you talk to her?"

I frowned. "Why me?" I asked.

"Well, you were the one that brought it up," Paris replied.

That's the one thing I don't like about my big sister, she's always right. I guess that runs in the family.

"Besides, someone's got to do it," she went on. "Better you than Peter or Pearl."

"Why not _you_?" I asked.

She nudged me grinning. "What's the matter? Scared?" she teased.

I tossed my head and gave an irritated huff. "Of course not!" I scoffed. Although I was, terribly.

I knocked at Mum's door softly. No reply. I knocked again, harder. Still no reply. Now you all know how impatient I am, that hasn't changed one bit. I entered the room without warning. There was Mum, sitting on the edge of her bed, her head in one hand, staring into space.

"Mum?" I said.

She turned around, but only grunted when she saw it was me and resumed her position of staring into space.

"Mum, are you OK?" I asked.

"Mmm… yeah," she mumbled disheartenedly.

"You don't look OK," I said. "We're all really worried about you."

Mum didn't reply. She didn't react in any way.

"MUM," I said raising my voice to get her attention.

"Oh shut up," she replied. "You kids, you're doing my head in. I don't know why I even bother with you."

I was shocked. I felt like she's slapped me, but there was more.

"You spend your time fantasising about stupid dreams that will never happen. You're kidding yourself, an actress? Yeah right. You'll probably end up as a toilet cleaner or something."

I was outraged. Stupid dreams? Toilet cleaner! Ruining your child's dreams has to be against the parenting rules or something. I knew I didn't belong here; I wasn't going to stay here with my dream-crushing mother any longer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 and stuff, YAY! Sorry I haven't uploaded in ages, I keep starting new stories and writing them so I abandon my old ones but I am determined to continue with this!**

I left in the middle of the night. It took forever waiting for everyone to fall asleep, but eventually the house was silent. I knew I couldn't stay here; I had to run away, to the city to achieve my dreams and prove Mum wrong. It was scary, but I was up for the challenge. I planned to take nothing with me, so it didn't weigh me down, but eventually I weakened and took a framed photo of me and my siblings. I sighed; I was going to miss them, even if they were irritating. I sneaked out of my room, silently and crept along the corridor. I stopped outside Mum's room, holding my breath, and put my ear to the door. Mum was sound asleep thank goodness. I could hear her breathing. I bit my lip. I was starting to regret this decision, what if it all went horribly wrong? I shook those thoughts away; I had to think positive now I was running away to the city. No-one ever got anywhere by being nervous and doubtful did they? I went on past Mum's room, along the corridor, down the stairs. I reached the front door and with one last look over my shoulder, I put my shaking hand on the doorknob and opened it. I blinked, taken aback. There was someone standing in the doorway, frowning, arms crossed, and waiting for me. My sister Pippa. Pippa was the third youngest, an 8 year old imaginative writer but a filthy liar as well.

"Pippa?" I whispered. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," she said sourly.

She had sussed me out. I felt humiliated, like a kid who's been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. I couldn't believe I was being told off by someone half my age.

"How did you know?" I asked.

"It was pretty obvious," she said. "You were acting weird all day. You can't do this Penelope! You're our sister, we need you!"

_No you don't_ I thought.

"I'm sorry Pippa; I can't stay here any longer. Mum hates me," I said.

"Mum hates all of us at the moment. It's nothing personal! She's just upset after… you know. _Please _Penelope, please, please, please!" she begged.

She's crying now. My eyes sting with tears too but I blink them away furiously. Crying wasn't going to solve any of my problems.

"It's not just after Dad died. She's always hated me. I have to go, to the city to achieve my dreams. I'm really sorry."

I looked at Pippa. For a second, I didn't see the liar I usually saw, I saw a talented writer. A girl destined for greatness, just like her sister.

"Listen, Pippa," I said. "You're a talented girl, one day you'll do great stuff. Don't let this get in the way of that. Sometimes, we have to fight to achieve things, you'll have to do it one day, I know it. But that's what_ I'm_ doing now, please don't stop me Pippa, I have to do this."

Pippa sniffed. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and looked at me. "OK," she said.

I hugged her tight stroking her brown curls. "Thank you," I said and then ran off into the night, before turning around to face her once more.

"You won't tell anyone will you?" I asked.

Pippa grinned at me. "Sisters don't tell," she replied.

I grinned back. "You're the best sister ever!" I called out. "Goodbye!" And I was gone.


End file.
